The Barista
by It'sNotAboutAngels
Summary: "You're a fucking child of Satan, Minho. Kindly leave." Newt said, already having enough Minho for today. "You curse like a hooker, it's making me uncomfortable." Minho stated, standing up, and Newt took in a deep breath, turning away. "This is really embarrassing. I'm leaving now." College AU, in which Newt and Minho are art students, and Thomas works at a coffee house.


"You might be the worst barista that I've ever come across." Newt said as he flipped a page from the book he was studying. Color and Light by James Gurney's. He had spent the last 30 minutes at the coffee house and had ordered a normal cappuccino since he arrived. The place was pretty much alone, and yet Thomas had spent the entire time leaning on the counter and talking to him- distracting him.

He had yet to see any cappuccino of any sort.

"I am not going to argue with you on that." Thomas said with a shrug and a small grin. Newt took his eyes off the book in favor to smile at the blue eyed boy across the counter, and if Thomas felt something flutter on his chest thanks to that look, he was not going to mention it. Newt's visits were becoming more frequent and it honestly made his job at the coffee house a lot more bearable. It wasn't that he hated coffee, he just hated clients. Unless they had dirty blonde hair and a quite exquisite good eye for colors and shape and whatever else it was that people at Art School knew.

The obnoxiously loud sound of a motorcycle pulled Thomas out of his thoughts, and he was greeted with the image of Minho making approximately three unnecessary U-turns before parking his bike, followed by an uncomfortably long show of Minho taking his helmet off. Newt rolled his eyes. Minho had wanted a damn bike since they were in high school, insisting that it suited him way more than car ever could. He had spent 6 years saving for it behind his mom back, since she never would have let him buy one. She was yet, in fact, to find out about it. Yet.

"Your girlfriend's here." Thomas told Newt, and soon enough, Minho was waltzing into the coffee and marching towards Newt with the promise of a barely contained scene on his eyes.

"Seriously?" The "biker" spat with narrowed eyes, still making his way towards his so called best friend.

"Minho." Newt greeted curtly. Minho came to a stop right in front of him, and put his hands on his hips on a very manly way.

"I waited for you for like, 3 hours at the cafeteria." He said, crossing his arms, and Newt shifted on his seat so he was facing him directly.

"Minho, you did no such thing." He responded calmly.

"How'd you know that?"

"Because class just finished around an hour ago and I texted you to let you know that I was spending the time with Tommy." Said the little shit, and Thomas was sure he knew what it did to his heart when Newt referred to him like that. Minho glared at him some more before imitating him with an irritating face and a nasally voice.

"It's all about Tommy, isn't it, Newt?" Minho said, and the barista ignored how awkward the nickname sounded coming from the Asian-American boy. "And what about Minho, Newt? What about me?"

"Oh, buddy, you know there will always be a special place in my heart for you." Newt said, smiling at him and patting his forearm, before finally returning his eyes back to the book. Minho was having none of that shit today.

"I never agreed to be the other man, Newt." He stated as he took the seat next to the blonde, who gave no indication of having heard him at all. "Newt, are you listening to me, what are you doing?!" He exclaimed, and Newt gritted his teeth at Minho's loudness.

"Reading the book Mr. Johnson gave us like a week ago." He responded, glaring at him. "Shut up, Minho."

"I bet you never tell Thomas to shut up." Minho mumbled.

"I don't, no." Newt agreed.

"You didn't even come here to study, man, you came here to flirt with the barista, for God's sake, let the man do his job."

"I'm just sitting here!" The other boy protested. Thomas watched the scene play out in front of him with amusement. He had the pleasure of meeting Minho only 3 times, and each time he had been pleasingly entertained.

"You, barista boy." Minho suddenly turned his attention to Thomas, earning him a glare from his friend and a surprised look from Thomas

"Minho." Newt scolded, but other than the hand Minho held up, commanding him to wait, he got no response.

"Bring me an espresso." Minho said, and Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"How do you want it?" He asked.

"What do you mean how do I want it?" Minho asked him, and then turned to look at Newt. "What kind of barista is this guy? I just want an espresso, like a coffee, you know."

"Go away." Newt said, shaking his head. Thomas chuckled and turned his full attention to Minho.

"Well, there are several ways I can make your espresso. There is the simple espresso, the double espresso, the macchiato-"

"Ok, stop, I don't know what any of those mean," Minho interrupted, causing Newt to sigh and Thomas to breathe out a small laugh.

"I'll just bring you a latte, how about that?" Thomas asked.

"Yeah. Yeah that's perfect, that's exactly what I've been asking for, man, just bring me a coffee." And Thomas nodded at him, sharing a small smile with Newt before turning around.

"You could bring me my cappuccino, while you're at it." Newt called out, and he got a small 'got it' in response.

Newt watched him walk away, and he could not, for the life of him, deny the warmth it brought to his entire being to be near the dark haired boy. Beautiful, funny Thomas, who didn't know the first thing about art, but constantly reminded Newt of an undiscovered sculpture each and every day. Thomas, who had an amazing attention span, but always took at least one fucking hour to bring him his coffee. Thomas, whose pretty blue eyes stared so intently every time he talked about art, and Newt was sure his heart had never skipped so many heartbeats that fast before.

Minho was staring at him funny.

"Newt, you're disgusting."

"Fuck the fuck out of here." Newt replied flatly, and Minho stared back unimpressed.

"You're so homosexually head over heels for the barista boy." His best friend said, and Newt glared at him some more.

"Thomas, Minho, for the love of God, his name is Thomas."

"Or Tommy." Minho said, wiggling his eyebrows, and Newt hated him for the 11th time that day. It was just so hard, living with Minho. So hard

"No, Minho."

"Only you get to call him Tommy, then?" Minho teased some more, and Newt rolled his eyes, honestly at loss of what to say.

"He's the only one who can make me appreciate the way it sounds." Thomas said, walking in with a coffee on each hand, and Newt held back the grin that threatened to spread creepily through his face. Minho rolled his eyes and took the coffee Thomas had placed in front of him, while Newt and Thomas shared a small smile that made the whole world spark gay. According to Minho.

He didn't miss the way Thomas put his coffee on a cardboard cup. Coffee to go. Huh.

"I really appreciate the sensual way you guys make love with your eyes, big fan of the gay-"

"Minho! I swear to fucking God-"

"Newt, you're so blasphemous." Minho interrupted, and Newt was positively fuming. "It's making my Christian ears cringe-"

"What Christian ears? You're not even Christian, fuck knows what the hell you believe in-"

"I believe in Christ, Newt."

"You're a fucking child of Satan, Minho. Kindly leave." Newt said, already having enough Minho for today.

"You curse like a hooker, it's making me uncomfortable." Minho stated, standing up, and Newt took in a deep breath, turning away. "This is really embarrassing. I'm leaving now."

"Okay." Newt said, staring intently at the counter, holding his coffee and absolutely refusing to say anything that would make his friend linger for more than necessary.

"Thomas." Minho acknowledged, extending his hand for the barista to shake. "I apologize on Newt's behalf. I hope he did not cause you any trouble." Thomas grinned, holding back a laugh. He could see Minho's charm, he really could.

"No worries, Minho. See you around."

"Yeah, okay. See yah. Newt, I hope to see you later today." Minho said, nodding at his friend, and Newt turned to look at him for the first time in a while.

"I don't."

"Okay."

"I hope you die in a car crash."

"I hope Thomas doesn't put out."

Newt turned away again, staring at the opposite wall, biting the inside of his cheek. He should throw his hot coffee to Minho's face, kill him with the glass or something. Thomas laughed, though, so Newt let out a sigh and put his face on his hands. Minho had already walked out, and it wasn't long before they heard the roar of his bike coming to life. Newt fucking hated that bike.

"I'm sorry Minho exists, I just, I don't know how to stop him from doing so without going to jail." He said, turning to look at Thomas mortified, but Thomas simply laughed again, causing Newt to smile a little too and shake his head. Thomas laughed so pretty. "Oh my god." he breathed out, leaning his head on his right hand. "It's not that I don't love him, it's just that I wish I didn't most of the time." He said, still not getting over his embarrassment.

"I understand, I have a friend who's like that some times. She's so nice, it kinda takes you by surprise how many times I've fantasized about killing her on her sleep."

"Really?" Newt asked with a smile, finally relaxing.

"Really." Thomas nodded, and Newt shook his head, smiling some more as he took a sip from his coffee. God, he was falling in love with that smile.

He was falling in love with that boy.

He was so not surprised by that thought it was actually shocking. He was sure it was embarrassing how obvious his feelings for the art student were, like a middle school girl who spends a great amount of time listening to Taylor Swift, thinking about her crush. Oh god, he wondered if he ever made Newt uncomfortable. He hoped not.

Newt knew he was staring at him while he drank coffee, he must have noticed by now. He was still staring, he was a moron. Abort, Thomas, abort.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when the doors opened to show a pretty, dark haired girl, with eyes so blue they rivaled his own. Wistful thinking, actually, if their eyes had sex, her eyes would call all the shots.

She smiled at him, and Thomas was beginning to realize how much he wanted her to walk out.

"Hey, Thomas, Tom-Tom, boy, hello." She said in greeting, and Newt raised his eyebrows, amusement showing on his lips.

God, what the fuck was up with that greeting?

"Teresa, hey."

"Hey, it's so lonely in here." She said, taking the seat next to Newt, and turned to look at him when she noticed the blonde had been looking at her. "Hey." She acknowledged him. He wondered if she would flirt with him.

Teresa was so pretty, he didn't want her to flirt with Newt. He cleared his throat, causing both of them to turn their attention towards him. He was momentarily stricken by how physically appealing they were sitting next to each other. They were still looking at him. God, that looked so pretty.

"Teresa, that's, uh, well, that's Newt."

"Oh, you're Newt?!" She exclaimed so loud Thomas was sure Minho was going to hear and drive back to the coffee house. Now that would be amusing, at least he wouldn't have to endure the embarrassment alone. "The painter boy. Yeah. I've heard so much about you."

"Good things, I hope." Newt said, extending his hand towards her, and her eyes acquired a wicked twinkle as she looked at him.

"Oh, you have no idea."

This was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
